


Wake Me Up When September Ends

by Moon_Rose (Moonrose91)



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, Gen, I am not changing the names because I don't want to, Male Friendship, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, mention of self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moon_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bofur has known Bilbo for four years.</p><p>He hasn't introduced Bilbo to his friends, or family, in all that time, or given a name and a gender only through a lapse in judgement.</p><p>This has led to jokes about him being whipped, for every time he gets a call on his cell phone (though why the Emergency Phone no one knows), he picks it up, sometimes leaving with apologies and a smile.</p><p>He should have known it would not last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Conversations on the Phone

**Author's Note:**

> Title of the fic comes from the Green Day song, 'Wake Me Up When September Ends'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this is not a Prompt Fill, I decided to keep it under the Moon_Rose name. Mostly because I got the idea from a completely different fill and this has absolutely nothing to do with it, but it appeared anyway.

Bofur hummed as he walked through the cool night air, the heat of summer fleeing in the face of September. His breath curled up in wisps around his face. His smile fell as he came to the Old Stone Bridge, a piece of craftsmanship that stretched over the rushing Brandywine River and found himself unable to cross it fully, stopping in the middle, much like he had for nearly four years.

He let out a sigh through his nose as he leaned against the very familiar wall, tracing the small nook in the stone that had once held a cell phone, not his, a month away from four years ago. He let out another sigh and ran a hand over his face, tugging on his moustache as he went.

He started out of his memories by his secondary cell phone ringing. He immediately picked it up and smiled a bit. “Hello Bilbo,” he greeted.

 _“Hey. Did I wake you? I’m sorry,”_ Bilbo answered in a voice that shook and heaved a bit.

“You didn’t, nothing to apologize for. What did you need Bilbo?” Bofur responded easily.

 _“I had a dream about mom,”_ Bilbo answered.

Bofur smile left his face. “Want to tell me about it?”

And he smiled as he listened, leaning contentedly against the stone work.

If it weren’t for the worry niggling it’s way to his heart and the swirling waters below, Bofur could almost be at peace. _“I woke up before she could hug me though, in the dream. It took me a while to stop shaking enough to call you. Are you sure I didn’t wake you up?”_ Bilbo finished and Bofur nodded before he physically answered, “Positive. Was already up when you called, actually, and out walking before you ask.”

_“It is near midnight.”_

“I like walking. Helps clear my head, especially for this thrice-cursed concept art for _The Retaking of the Dwarven Kingdom_ ,” Bofur responded cheerfully, which earned him a tiny laugh.

_“Well, so long as I didn’t bother you.”_

“You never bother me Bilbo. You okay to go back to sleep or do you want to talk more?” Bofur asked, watching the way the water swirled beneath him, white froth leaping up.

He sometimes hated this river.

 _“I think I can go back to sleep,”_ Bilbo responded and there was shifting, cloth rustling, and Bofur could tell, from experience of just listening sometimes to minutes of Bilbo shifting, that the other was in bed.

“But do you want to talk more? I can walk and talk.”

_“Yeah.”_

Bofur smiled as he stood up and walked away from the bridge as he led Bilbo through the conversation, in a way. He just got Bilbo talking about things (mostly plants; Bilbo took pleasure from gardening useful and pretty things) and listened, occasionally asking questions, especially since he had to do concept art for the thrice-cursed Shadowed Forest, and Bilbo knew more about forest plants as well, ones that he could add to it.

He glanced up as he came to the bus stop into the small (very small) city, settling on the bench as he glanced at his watch.

It was nearing two am on the seventh of September and the next bus wouldn’t be here till two thirty.

Tugging his hat more firmly onto his head, he settled comfortably onto the bench and smiled as he heard Bilbo starting to yawn. Bofur, with his insomnia, was just glad that Bilbo was settling back into sleep and hopefully he would dream of plants.

Or at least less painful things.

 _“G’nigh Bofur,”_ Bilbo slurred.

“Good night Bilbo,” Bofur answered and heard Bilbo hang up before he did as well.

Fifteen minutes later, he was taking the bus to home.

*~*~*~*~*

Bofur let out a low sigh of relief as the last of the concept art for _The Retaking of the Dwarven Kingdom_ , was finished. He carefully removed himself from his drafting table, and frowned at the clock.

It was nearly five pm, on September tenth, and, when he flipped open his secondary cell phone there were no messages, though he hadn’t heard it go off, so there shouldn’t _be_ any messages, but he needed to double check. Checking his other cell phone, he found a group message from Thorin, giving a time to meet at _The Prancing Pony_.

But…

Bofur frowned and flipped open his other phone and immediately dialed a number he had known by heart within the first week of getting it.

The phone rang once, twice, and a third time before it was picked up.

 _“Hello?”_ a listless voice asked and Bofur covered his eyes, even as he kept his voice upbeat.

“Hey Bilbo, it is Bofur,” he greeted.

_“Bofur. What’s up?”_

“I finished my concept art. You up for getting some dinner?”

There was silence for a while, then a shift, the soft rustling of cloth that Bofur was sure was Bilbo’s bed when Bilbo’s answer cut through his thoughts. _“No. What’s the day?”_

“Tuesday,” Bofur answered.

 _“Today’s_ Prancing Pony _day,”_ Bilbo responded.

“Yes. But I can miss it. What do you feel up to?” Bofur replied.

More shifting, a quiet sigh. _“Curling up, going to sleep, and never waking up.”_

His voice is distant now and Bofur takes a near silent, steadying, breath. “Bilbo, have you eaten today?” he asked.

More silence and then a final, _“No.”_

Bofur nodded a bit. “Did you eat yesterday?” he asked.

A gentle shift was followed by a quiet, _“No.”_

Bofur yanked on his moustache worriedly. “I have a feeling I don’t want to know this answer, but did you eat anything the day before yesterday?”

_“No.”_

Bofur gave a nod. “Are you in bed, or on the couch?”

_“Bed.”_

Bofur nodded worriedly. “Have you been up at any time in the last three days?”

_“Just to get water and use the restroom.”_

Bofur rubbed his forehead, getting an idea of how bad it was.

He had learned to hate September quickly during the first few months of knowing Bilbo. This hatred reemerged ever September following, or mention of the word, in fact.

“All right, I’m coming over, with chicken soup from that one place you like,” Bofur stated as he sent out a text saying he couldn’t make to the _Prancing Pony_ tonight and he was sorry.

 _“What? No, Bofur, you don’t have to,”_ Bilbo protested softly and there were soft mutterings that Bofur was sure he was glad he didn’t hear.

They were probably filled with self-loathing and Bofur couldn’t reassure him that Bilbo was worth it, wasn’t a waste of space, and that, no, he wasn’t a burden over the phone. Bilbo, he had long learned, needed physical reassurance that someone was there for him and words were never enough.

“I don’t have to. I want to. Besides, I like soup,” Bofur answered as he yanked on his hat (which he never wore when working on concept art) before he pulled on his coat, listening to shifting and breathing. “Bilbo?” he called softly, wondering if he would need to call a taxi and start panicking.

 _“I’m here. I just…how soon will you be here?”_ Bilbo asked softly.

“Anywhere from thirty to forty-five minutes,” Bofur answered.

_“Okay. We can hang up then.”_

Bofur smiled at that. “Very well Bilbo. See you soon.”

_“See you soon.”_

Bofur waited for the click before he hung up as well.

And then he was out the door and heading down the stairs.

He had no patience for elevators today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if any of this upsets people, but I did put the things in the tags. I will add as readers deem necessary, just leave something in a comment, or if that upsets you, email me at moonrose8991@gmail.com
> 
> On last names...
> 
> Gandalf is Gandalf T. Gray, even if he isn't going to show up till Chapter 2.
> 
> Thorin is keeping the last name Oakenshield (because I can't resist), as well as Fili and Kili having that last name along with their mother, Dis, because she never married (she doesn't believe in marriage) and Fili and Kili are about...10 months apart.
> 
> (They didn't start drinking until Kili reached the age of 21.)
> 
> Everyone else I have no clue over, however, so any help is greatly appreciated.


	2. Chicken Soup and (Practically) Twins

Bofur hopped off the bus in front _Gray Havens Café_ where Bilbo’s favorite soup was, and walked inside, giving a small wave to Elrond in the corner (someone who was always there) before he walked up to the counter. “Hello Gandalf,” he greeted.

“Bofur. So good to see you again. What can I get you today?” Gandalf greeted.

“The small tub of chicken noodle soup to go please,” Bofur answered, tugging at his moustache.

“Bilbo sick again?” Gandalf asked and Bofur nodded a bit.

“If he gets sick so often, maybe he should go to his doctor and see if something is wrong,” Elrond stated from his corner and Bofur resisted the urge, masterfully, to hurl one of the chocolate bars on the counter at him.

The man could be wonderful, warm, and fatherly one second, and a completely stuck-up _bastard_ the next. “He did. Nothing that can be done about it,” Bofur answered as he paid Gandalf and pretended that he wasn’t hearing Elrond’s soft mutterings of Bilbo needing another doctor.

Bofur sometimes got the feeling Elrond was one, on all three accounts.

He let out a low sigh and gave Gandalf a thankful smile as the paper bag with the small (2 liters) container of chicken noodle soup was handed over to him before he walked out the door, prepared to get on the closest bus that was going to Bilbo's when someone tapped a horn twice. He began to walk up the street, hoping against hope that it wasn't...

"Bofur!" the familiar voice of Kili shouted and Bofur let out a low sigh, covering his upper face with his hand before he ran his hand down his face, and turned, giving the leaning half out of the convertible Kili a dark look.

Dark hair wild from the wind and clean shaven, he was as much the opposite of his brother, Fili, in looks, but the pair were far more similar than anyone gave them credit for. "Yes?" Bofur asked, in a bad mood, but refused to let the pair know that.

If he didn't get on the next bus, he was going to be late.

And Bofur could not afford to be so.

"Awww, Fili, I don’t think Bofur wants us around,” Kili teased.

“And here we were going to be nice and give him a lift, and not make him go to the  _Prancing Pony_ , like Uncle Thorin wanted," Fili finished, looking at Bofur over the tops of his sunglasses while Kili laughed.

Bofur just ran his hand over his face, watching as the bus started to drive towards the bus stop Bofur needed to get to, and the hat-wearing man’s eyes locked on the bus nervously. "Bofur, get in. We’ll get you to where you need to go," Fili stated and Bofur shook his head.

"No. I have to catch the bus," Bofur answered and continued onto his way up the street.

There was an unmanly squeak and he groaned as Kili caught him, careful of the soup and held onto his shoulders. “No, please Bofur, please! Come on! We’re trying to help, promise!” Kili stated.

“Like _fuck_ I am giving you the address I am going to,” Bofur stated and shook off Kili’s hand before letting out a sigh as he saw that the bus was pulling away. “Bofur, come on! We promise to be good!” Kili stated, tugging on Bofur’s sleeve.

Bofur let out a low sigh. “I am not letting you near him,” Bofur answered, knowing that sometimes Fili and Kili didn’t know when to shut-up.

“We’ll be on our perfect behavior around your boyfriend,” Fili shouted.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Bofur snapped and they both snickered, Kili tugging at his arm again.

“Look, you missed the bus. Please, please, Bofur, let us drive you!” Kili begged and Bofur sighed.

And then he nodded in agreement before he got in, like a normal person, and he sighed once again. “ _The Shire_ ,” he stated reluctantly and Fili turned to stare at him.

“What?” Fili asked.

“The gated community past _Prancing Pony_ , across Bree Street, and through the Tookborough Arch, _The Shire_ ,” Bofur responded and Fili let out a low whistle.

“Nice boyfriend,” Kili stated.

Fili chuckled as Bofur let out another protest of, “Not my boyfriend.”

And then Fili peeled out, Kili cackling a little as Bofur gripped the soup a little tighter.


	3. Up and Moving

Bofur opened the front door to Bilbo’s house at the top of _The Shire_ , closing and locking the dark green door of the ranch styled house behind him.

Bilbo's house's style was one of the majority that made up the gated community and they all made Bofur feel uncomfortable, though the homely feeling that filled Bilbo’s home always made Bofur smile and relax.

Even when he wasn’t visiting just to visit. “Bilbo?” he called as he set the soup on the ground to hang up his coat on the coat hook by the door before he picked up the soup.

He settled the soup into the refrigerator that was set into the wall and headed to Bilbo’s bedroom, stepping through the open archway with a sad smile on his face to see the small form curled up in the center of his four-poster bed. “Bilbo,” he called softly and took off his boots before he entered Bilbo’s bedroom.

The form on the bed stirred, but didn’t greet him. “Bilbo?” he called again as he gently settled on the edge of the bed, giving a small smile at the honeyed curls that peeked out from under the blankets. He reached down and carefully tugged on the blanket, as if to pull it down, and that got a reaction.

“Bofur, no. Let me sleep,” Bilbo protested softly, his voice muffled and Bofur shook his head.

“Nope. I brought soup and I hate to eat soup alone. Come on Bilbo, let’s get you up and moving,” Bofur stated and Bilbo let out a low whine, curling up more under his covers.

He held back a sigh, mostly because he was worried and sighing did nothing except hurt Bilbo. Instead, Bofur just shifted so he was sitting closer to Bilbo, carefully resting a hand on Bilbo’s hair, but otherwise not doing anything, feeling like was trying to cross a frozen lake and not knowing of the thin spots.

However, that seemed to be a misstep, for the action had Bilbo curling up more and crying out, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you come out here for nothing, I’m sorry…”

Bofur carefully curled over the younger, and smaller, man, pressing his forehead against Bilbo’s shoulder, or where he guessed the shoulder to be in relation to Bilbo’s position and the way the blanket shifted with Bilbo’s sobs that cut off his words.

This was going to be ‘first year of friendship’ bad month then.

Bofur could handle that.

“Shh, shh. You didn’t _make me_ do anything Bilbo, I _promise_ ,” Bofur stated and continued to keep curled over Bilbo, singing silly nonsense songs as he began to carefully rub Bilbo’s back through the blankets, knowing that when Bilbo came out from hiding, he was going to be thinner than Bofur would be happy with.

It took some time before Bilbo’s sobs slowed and the stream of apologies began, with more gentle words of comfort, and the addition of carding rough fingers through dirty hair. Bilbo curled up more, though this time towards Bofur instead of pulling away, which calmed Bofur considerably and, eventually, Bilbo was quiet again under the blankets, and Bofur himself.

He twisted some curls around his fingers, carefully, and asked, “Want some soup?”

“No,” Bilbo mumbled.

Bofur buried his head against Bilbo’s shoulder gently and looked back at the practically hidden curls. “Will you have some anyway?”

Bilbo hesitated and Bofur added, “Just one bowl. A small one, okay?”

The younger man shifted and then nodded. “Okay. Think you can get up?” Bofur asked.

Bilbo hesitated, and then shook his head.

“Need me to help you get up and moving?” Bofur asked, already thankful that a spare bedroom had been made into his during the second year of their friendship.

Bilbo buried himself fully under the blankets and Bofur hummed comfortingly as he waited for Bilbo to calm down and answer.

“Yes,” Bilbo answered and Bofur nodded.

“Okay. When was the last time you ate?” Bofur responded.

“Five days ago.”

Okay then.

The sigh was fighting to leave, but it wouldn’t help and might actually hurt. “Okay. That doesn’t change the original plan. Come on, let’s get up,” Bofur stated and stood, keeping his hands on Bilbo through the blankets, carefully peeling them back, but receiving no help from Bilbo, running a comforting hand along Bilbo’s cheek, which was gaunter then was healthy, but that was because Bilbo _needed_ to eat at far more regular intervals then normal people and the fact he hadn’t for five days wasn’t helping anything.

Not his state of mind and certainly not his health.

“May I pick you up?” Bofur asked and Bilbo let out a low groan, obviously embaressed, but Bofur waited for the nod, or the vocal ‘yes.’

He got both.

And Bofur easily lifted Bilbo up into his arms and headed to the bathroom. The fact Bilbo turned trustingly into his chest was something that eased some of the fear that had bloomed in his mind when Bilbo had first answered the phone so lifelessly earlier.

Now, time to get him up and moving, at least.

*~*~*~*

Bofur carefully rubbed the towel through Bilbo’s hair, Bilbo wrapped up in a terry cloth bathrobe, Bilbo clean though shaking from expending energy he did not have, on two fronts.

He then let the towel drape around Bilbo’s neck and held out his hands to Bilbo, the cuffs of his own shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, damp. Bilbo eyed Bofur’s hands and then carefully reached out, grasping Bofur’s forearms. With a gentle heave, he had Bilbo on his feet, the shorter by a little more then a foot man swaying slightly before Bofur carefully lifted Bilbo up into his arms again.

Getting Bilbo dressed was something that had Bilbo flushing slightly, even though Bofur made reassuring sounds, chasing Bilbo’s embarrassment as gently as he could before he began to focus on getting Bilbo onto the couch.

Bofur smiled a bit at the way Bilbo curled up against the arm rest, relieved that Bilbo was up and out of his bed.

Now, to get food into him.

And with that, Bofur focused on filling a mug with chicken soup.

It was the only way Bilbo would be able to eat anything at all.


	4. Define Normal

Bilbo leaned heavily against Bofur's torso, curled up in the comforting, and familiar, embrace Bofur happily pulled Bilbo into as they sat on Bilbo's couch. Bofur had turned the TV onto some really _bad_  Sci-fi thriller movie on some cable channel, the channel that they always watched whenever those cheesy movies were scheduled to appear, having found common ground during that first year of their acquaintance, from before they were friends.

It was their shared enjoyment of those movies that had started them on the path to friendship, actually.

With the sounds of the movie in the background, Bilbo found that he was slowly slipping into sleep, exhaustion dragging on his limbs and the, two, mugs of chicken soup he had chased away some of the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, but not all of it.

He made a low sound in his chest and closed his eyes as Bofur began to run a comforting hand through his hair. He clung tightly to the comfort Bilbo knew he did not deserve because all he did was pull Bofur away from his other friends and cry on him and cause all sorts of trouble.

He barely even realized when he started to cry again, clinging to Bofur in a fear that Bofur would eventually tire of him and leave him alone again. Bofur, however, seemed to react to his thoughts, for Bilbo felt Bofur just curl around him more, Bofur’s free hand lifting up to rub comforting circles on Bilbo's back and the hand in Bilbo's hair shifting to more comforting motions. "I'm not going anywhere Bilbo," Bofur reassured gently and Bilbo just clung to him tighter.

He hadn't realized he had spoken out loud.

Behind them, and mostly ignored, the movie comes to the traditional cliff-hanger ending, and the second began again. But all Bilbo really hears is Bofur's heartbeat pounding against his ear, and Bofur humming softly, the song too low for Bilbo to fully understand.

It is here, on the couch, that Bilbo feels _warm_ for the first time since the notice had come in the mail, and it is enough to ease him into an only slightly troubled sleep.

*~*~*~*

Bofur glances down when he feels Bilbo slump against him further and gives a sad smile at the fact Bilbo is asleep. He looks back to the TV, but he can’t concentrate on the, lack of, plot.

Or confusing plot.

He settled against the couch and winced when he felt his cell phone starting to vibrate, quickly pulling it out and answering it. Wincing at how it made Bilbo whimper lowly in his sleep.

 _“Why aren’t you here?”_ Thorin demanded.

“Busy,” Bofur answered, carefully twisting long curls around his fingers.

There was a series of curses in Polish that left Thorin’s lips, slipping through the phone, and into Bofur’s ear.

He had never learned why, or how, Thorin spoke Polish as if he were raised in it (his last name was _Oakenshield_ for crying out loud, and neither his father, or his grandfather, when his grandfather had been alive, had spoken a word of it). In the end, Bofur had long come to terms with the fact that he would never know everything about Thorin.

 _“That answers nothing,”_ Thorin snarled.

“Thorin, I couldn’t come today. This does not mean I am abandoning the company, or anyone else,” Bofur argued softly, running his fingers comfortingly through Bilbo’s hair.

_“Where are you?”_

“Fili and Kili have actually kept their mouths shut?” Bofur asked in shock.

_“It is a miracle that they never achieved as children, and now for the wrong reasons.”_

Bofur rolled his eyes slightly at Thorin’s melodramatics. “Thorin, I am with a friend that needs me. A friend that I, for once, don’t share with you. As much as I care and love you, as both my friend, and brother in all but blood, and my boss, it is nice to have a friend that is not also yours and who I can sometimes rant at about all of you and not get told that I am being unfair,” Bofur answered, a grin on his face as he thought about one of those days that Bilbo dragged _him_ out into the world, the pair going walking through the park that had led to one of Bofur’s more spectacular rants about what life was like when you worked, and practically lived with, everyone he worked with.

Thorin growled like a bear with a thistle in his paw, but sighed. _“I get it. I have friends.”_

“Work alliances don’t count,” Bofur interrupted.

Thorin continued with a low snarl in his voice the only suggestion of him being irritated by the interruption.

_“I have **friends** that I don’t share with anyone…except Balin. But Balin never upsets me.”_

“I’ll remember you said that next time you storm out of Balin’s office, cursing his and Dwalin’s existence,” Bofur retorted.

There was silence, except the distant sound of merriment. “Thorin?” Bofur called.

A grunt was Bofur’s answer.

“Put out the damn cigarette, go back inside, and relax. The concept art is done, I’ll bring it in Monday, or have Bifur bring it in for me if I can’t,” Bofur answered and Thorin huffed.

_“How did you know I was smoking?”_

“Because you do that when you want to scream at someone,” Bofur answered.

_“I hate you.”_

“Thorin, you’ve been saying that since we were both in college together. I am honestly of the mind that you don’t mean what you are saying,” Bofur retorted and Thorin let out a laugh and there was loud sigh.

_“Fine. Take care of your secret boyfriend. I’ll tell everyone you’re making out with him.”_

“He’s not my boyfriend and don’t you dare.”

Thorin just hung up and Bofur rolled his eyes before he turned off his cell phone and focused back on the movie.

When it was over, he thought nothing of carefully hefting Bilbo up into his arms, and heading back to Bilbo’s bed. He settled Bilbo on the bed before stripping off the covers and carefully slipping on new sheets under Bilbo, wishing he had done this earlier, but scared to leave Bilbo.

Once he tucked Bilbo back in, he headed to the guest room and changed clothes before he headed back to the living room, cleaning up quietly as the TV continued with the next movie. Once the dishes were done, he turned off the TV and paused at Bilbo’s bedroom doorframe, remembering when there _had_ been a door until, in a self-destructive haze, Bilbo had broken the door, had ripped it from the door frame as he sobbed.

He still carried the scars on his arms, the scars hiding his other scars that Bofur didn’t like to think about.

With a sigh, he settled into a chair in Bilbo’s room and closed his eyes.

He was out in seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so people know, I find smoking disgusting.
> 
> However, my brain decided that Thorin, Dwalin, and Nori are all smokers of cigarettes.
> 
> Balin and Bilbo, however, are pipe smokers.
> 
> Bilbo won't say no to a cigarette, however, when the mood strikes him.


	5. Ifs and Maybes

Bilbo woke feeling as if he his face and been shoved into sand. He let out a low whine and moved to scrub at his eyes, feeling like all of yesterday was a haze. His hands are stopped by Bofur's familiar hands and a damp handkerchief is shoved into his hands.

"You'd never forgive me if I let you do that. Come on, I made breakfast," Bofur stated as he slowly helped Bilbo sit up while Bilbo scrubbed at his face, cleaning grit out of his eyes. Bilbo felt light headed as he sat on the edge of the bed, though now that he was paying attention, he _could_ smell breakfast but he wasn’t hungry.

“I’m not hungry,” Bilbo protested softly.

Bofur knelt down in front of him then and carefully curled his hands over Bilbo’s. “Please?” Bofur asked.

Bilbo caved instantly.

He knew it made Bofur guilty, he _knew_ this. But Bilbo knew that Bofur would leave one day and never return.

Everyone Bilbo loved did so eventually.

*~*~*~*

Bofur watched Bilbo eat the crepes he had made and knew that, to get Bilbo out of the house, he was going to have to bribe the short man. He walked around and sat next to Bilbo, eating some of the blueberries Bilbo had bought that needed to be eaten. “Bilbo?” Bofur questioned.

“Mmm-hmm?” Bilbo answered.

“I was thinking of taking a walk. Maybe down to the park you like, and I _hate_ walking alone,” Bofur responded, his voice pitched low and soothing.

Yesterday was focused on pulling Bilbo out of his bed.

Today, Bofur is going to be fighting to get Bilbo outside. “Will you take my pipe and tobacco out of whatever hiding place you have put them whilst I was sleeping in this morning?” Bilbo grumbled.

Bofur let out a sigh.

He had never understood the appeal of smoking. He had tried it, once, but it had not been something that he had enjoyed.

Okay, that was a lie. He liked to smoke a pipe, or used to, but had given it up when Bombur’s wife had gotten pregnant (the first time).

“Yes,” Bofur answered.

“Do we have to go to the park?” Bilbo questioned softly.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Bofur admitted, but he shifted closer.

“But a walk would be nice,” he added, carefully resting his arms on the kitchen counter that Bilbo always ate at (his dining room table was for when guests that were not Bofur were over), and his head on his arms to stare up at Bilbo.

Bilbo steals one of the blueberries and eats it, the first thing he’s eaten that Bofur hasn’t had to coerce into Bilbo’s stomach and Bilbo lets out a low sigh, tired eyes looking around. Bofur takes in the exhaustion that shouldn’t be there, the way he looks so _small_ and Bofur hates thinking that, because the young man is anything _but_.

He’s so much bigger than what his size determines he should be.

He’s so much _bigger_ than what his _relations_ (people, if they can be called that, that make Bofur want to beat them until they are bloody) try to make him, for all that the manage to drag Bilbo low, and lower after ever instance that they talk to him.

Bofur knows he can’t curl around Bilbo and protect him from all the evils of the world.

He wouldn’t do that to Bilbo, even if he could.

Bilbo eats a few more blueberries and then finishes off the crepe. “Okay,” he stated and Bofur beamed, getting up.

He pulls the pipe and tobacco out of the drawer that is one to the left that Bilbo usually just keeps the tobacco in, his pipe either in his pocket or on the stand on the counter when not in use. Bilbo smiles and takes both, before slipping off, listlessly. Bofur follows, after he does the dishes, and heads to the backyard, to the garden that is starting to get overrun (which means that Bilbo started declining _weeks_ , not _days_ , ago, and Bofur wants to kick himself; he should have known, when Bilbo laughed to brightly and moved too maniacally), and watches Bilbo smoke his pipe.

The smoke curls into the air, from the bowl and from Bilbo’s mouth. Bofur’s nose wrinkles slightly, not because the smell, but because he sees the way that Bilbo isn’t really _smoking_ so much as little the smoke swirl around him. Bofur watches until the light goes out of bowl of the pipe and the young man lets out a sigh, the smoke swirling out slightly at that.

“Time to get socks and shoes on Bilbo,” Bofur stated.

“Shoes are an abomination and should burn,” Bilbo returned, but stood up. He takes care of the pipe and sets it in the cradle before he puts the tobacco away.

Bofur watches with a sad smile, seeing the way Bilbo has to catch himself on walls and pieces of furniture, reminders of an unwilling isolation broken only by Bofur (or relations who Bofur wishes to beat into submission). It makes his stomach twist, but his smile turns real, turns _warm_ when Bilbo begins to tug his shoes and socks on. Bofur can’t help himself when he wraps a scarf around Bilbo’s neck, or even when he tugs a hat onto Bilbo’s head, even as Bofur ducks down slightly so Bilbo can put Bofur’s hat onto his.

They are in coats and Bofur is tugging Bilbo out the door.

Bofur knows he protests too much when his friends say Bilbo is his boyfriend, which doesn’t help in convincing them that they are just friends.

But he won’t let his friends make assumptions about his Bilbo.

Especially when they strike too close to home with their teasing, because Bofur…if Bilbo hadn’t been so badly hurt before Bofur had met him, hadn’t asked in a voice so confused and lost, _“What do you want? No one is nice to me unless they want something,”_ (if, if, _if_ , that’s all Bilbo’s life seems to be most days and it angers Bofur, because Bilbo deserves _more_ ) Bofur would have asked Bilbo out on a date.

But he’d rather be Bilbo’s friend and be there.

And maybe…maybe Bilbo will ask _him_ one day.

Bofur can wait for that.


	6. Orville and Jess

They did make it to the park, stopping at a deli to get Bilbo a sandwich when he mumbled that he was hungry, and sitting on a bus bench to eat it, Bilbo rolling his eyes at some of Bofur's worse and more off-color jokes. And, eventually, kicking Bofur's shin lightly, but all the movements were automatic, lacking any real life to them.

Now, walking the paths of the park, Bilbo had his arms wrapped around Bofur's elbow and was commenting on how the leaves were turning early this year.

And pointedly ignoring that it was September.

They probably would have continued on through, if a happy shout of, "Bofur!" hadn't interupted it.

Bofur immediatly groaned and Bilbo turned to look back at whoever had shouted, followed by Bofur turning with him to smile at Orville Devore, Ori to his friends (of which he had many), who was wheeling up to them, his black Lab trotting beside him, her Service Dog vest standing proud against her coat. "Hello to you too Jess," Bofur greeted as the black Lab sat down next to the wheelchair.

"This must be the boyfriend," Ori stated and Bofur groaned while Bilbo flushed brilliantly.

"Oh, no, we're not dating," Bilbo stated and Ori blinked a bit before he smiled.

"Orville Devore at your service! But, everyone calls me Ori. I prefer it actually. Mostly because Dori, his real name is Dorin, uses that when I am in trouble," Ori introduced, holding his hand out to Bilbo.

Bilbo smiled back (it was thin and false, but it was an attempt to be genuine) and he shook Ori's hand. "Bilbo Baggins, at yours. I wish to say that Bilbo was a nickname, but it is not, I'm afraid," Bilbo answered and Bofur chuckled a bit as Ori yanked Bilbo down into a hug once introductions were done.

Bilbo hesitated before hugging back and Ori released Bilbo with a grin. "Well, I like it," Ori stated and then pat the arm of his wheelchair, once Bilbo had stood up normally once more, looking very flushed and flustered.

Jess immediatly placed her paws on the wheelchair and Ori scratched her behind the ears. "This is Jess," he stated and gently gave her the order to greet Bilbo.

She raised her paw at Bilbo and Ori grinned as Bilbo took her paw and shook it gently. "It is a pleasure to meet you Jess," Bilbo answered and carefully dropped her paw once he was done shaking it, standing up normally.

Jess went back to Ori's side and Ori suddenly grinned. "Hey, how about you come to lunch? Dori won't mind, and Nori, his real name is Nostradamus and he  _hates_ it so everytime he irritates me I use it and you have permission to use it to, since nothing makes him leave you alone to sulk faster, would love to meet the guy who is Bofur's best friend outside of work. Which, by the way,  _I_ am the new writer! Thorin hired me yesterday, officially this morning, and really Bofur, you missed a lot of drinking last night. Nori might not be awake! Oh, please say you'll come Mister Baggins! I need someone else around for Dori to mother and between you and Bofur, I might actually get through a lunch without having green food put on my plate!" Ori pleaded and Bilbo's mouth opened and closed, doing a fine immitation of a fish.

Bofur carefully rubbed Bilbo's back, feeling the tension there, and Bilbo managed to get out, "That...that sounds lovely. If you're sure."

Ori beamed. "Oh, yes. Don't worry! I'll keep Nori from being too nosy. Maybe," Ori answered and unlocked his wheels before he began to turn around, heading back down the path, Jess keeping up easily.

"What did I just agree to?" Bilbo asked.

"You, my dear Bilbo, have walked right into the dragon's cave and into his very hoarde," Bofur reassured.

Bilbo whimpered, even as Bofur gently guided him after the happily chattering Ori.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I thought up a name for "Ori" and made "Ori" his nickname, because ORVILLE!!!
> 
> IT IS SO CUTE!!!!
> 
> So, I gave Dori and Nori names too.
> 
> (And yes, Ori is in a manual wheelchair. And a service dog.)


	7. Not Okay

Bilbo isn't sure what to expect as Ori ushers them into the house with a ramp attatched.

It is a small house, or looks small, but the inside is more spacious than the exterior would have one believe. He huddled close to Bofur, even as Ori chattered cheerfully to them.

Bofur gently rested a hand on his shoulder, either trying to pull him closer or urge him toward Ori, but Bilbo just pressed closer, already feeling overwhelmed and wanting to run as fast as he could until he got back to Bag-End. "Bilbo, are you okay?" Ori questioned softly and Bilbo slowly began to shake his head 'no', even as Bofur was already shifting Bilbo to sit down on one of the chairs.

He gently cradled Bilbo's face and rubbed his thumbs along Bilbo's cheekbones before he got Bilbo staring at him. "Hey, yer okay, right? You gonna be okay?" Bofur soothed and Bilbo shook his head again, even as he slowly calmed under Bofur's steady presence and gentle voice.

What did he do to deserve Bofur?

Bilbo trembled slightly as he slowly calmed down and he let out a soft sigh. “I’m okay. Sorry Ori,” Bilbo answered, but Ori waved him off, even as he worked on getting Jess out of her service vest.

Bofur slowly let his hands drop into Bilbo’s lap and he carefully gripped one of Bilbo’s hands.

Bilbo gave a shaky smile in return and looked toward Ori again. “Um…your brotherOH!” Bilbo asked, but startled when Jess placed her head on Bilbo’s lap.

Bofur glanced down at the way Jess seemed to just rest against Bilbo, until he glanced over at Ori. “She does that,” he explained and Bilbo hesitated until Ori nodded a bit and Bilbo placed his hand on her head.

He was soon petting the dog as Ori chatted, Bilbo feeling as if a sharp ball of wire was being smoothed and unwound.

He even managed to respond to some questions, while Bofur seemed more than happy to sit near Bilbo and mostly interrupt when it seemed Bilbo was verging on getting overwhelmed. “That’s the boyfriend?” Dori asked when they entered the dining room for lunch and Bilbo flushed dangerously before ducking his head down slightly.

“I’m not dating anyone,” Bofur retorted as he sat down, raising an eyebrow as Nori shuffled in and flopped into a chair while Ori continued to chatter warmly along.

“His name is Bilbo Baggins! He’s Bofur’s friend,” Ori introduced and Bilbo waved at Dori weakly, which earned him a smile.

“Nice to meet you Bilbo,” Dori stated and Bilbo returned the sentiment.

Lunch went about, though Bilbo didn’t eat much, not hungry once more, even with Jess placing her head on his knee the entire time.

When lunch was over, however, it went bad. “What about your family, Bilbo? You seem to know everything about ours,” Ori asked, looking excitedly eager as he always did, and it was suddenly like Bilbo was carved from stone while Bofur tried not to look like he was ready to cover his face.

“Oh, there’s…there’s nothing to tell, really. Just…my parents and I don’t talk anymore. Well, I talk to them, but they don’t answer,” Bilbo responded in a strangled voice as he began to pick at his nails until Bofur’s hand reached over and gently stopped him.

And the self-destructive behavior loop had begun, which meant that something had happened that was enough to upset Bilbo more than September already did.

Bofur also didn’t saying anything about how Bilbo’s parents were dead.

He hated pity above all else, even as Ori frowned a bit that. “Sounds like me when I try to hide the fact my parents are dead,” Ori answered and Bilbo laughed weakly, before he nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Ori offered and Bilbo returned the sentiment, but it was obvious that the only reason either said the apologies was because it was expected.

Talk on relatives soon had Bilbo apologizing and leaving, while Bofur resisted the urge to sigh and roll his head around while he rubbed his neck.

“I’ve got to go as well. Thank you for lunch,” he stated and quickly followed after Bilbo, wondering if everything was going to be all right.

He had to run to catch up with Bilbo after, wondering how bad Bilbo was going to be until the roller coaster that was Bilbo’s life went on the up part. “Bilbo,” he called, even as Bilbo picked up speed, something that admittedly worried Bofur.

When Bilbo tried to run, it was usually never a good thing and involved Bofur having to drive Bilbo to the hospital.

“Bilbo,” he tried again, and Bilbo stopped dead.

“I’m sorry,” he began, only to see Bilbo shaking his head, his shoulders shaking.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything! Why do you put up with me?” Bilbo asked, already panting from suppressed sobs and Bofur immediately pulled Bilbo into a hug, rubbing his back slightly.

“There’s no putting up with. You’re my friend Bilbo. And friends are there for each other,” Bofur answered softly, even as he pulled Bilbo closer to him.

Bilbo clutched tightly to Bofur’s jacket, sobbing lightly even as his legs began to give out. Bofur immediately caught him and lifted him up into his arms to continue walking back to the Shire Gated Community, holding him tightly as Bilbo clung to him.

And Bofur could only hope that tonight would pass with both of them sleeping the night away, instead of it being spent trying to fight the negative spiral Bilbo could easily fall into on days like this.

One that Bilbo had already descended into on their day out and Bofur mentally kicked himself for not realizing that Bilbo was getting overwhelmed.

Later, when he was calmer, he would admit that he couldn’t have known until some of Bilbo’s bigger tells showed up, such as the picking at his fingernails, like when questions began to be asked.

One day, Bofur swore he would find something that would help Bilbo through his very bad days.

(Hopefully one day very soon.)


	8. Hospital Trip (Self-Harm and Suicidal Thoughts and Abstract Attempted Suicide)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's thought process is based heavily off of something personal I am not willing to share.

Bilbo ran his fingers along the counter top, listening to Bofur whistling cheerfully as he did the dishes. Bilbo hummed softly in response and the whistling seemed to pick up, though Bilbo couldn't feel it. Weariness dragged at his mind and was etched in his bones and he wondered if it was really worth it. His mind screamed and clawed at him and he twitched all over when he felt someone touch his shoulder.

Bilbo dragged his eyes up to stare at Bofur and tried to smile, resisting the urge to sink into the warmth Bofur offered. Bofur immediately pulled Bilbo against his chest, urging Bilbo to rest his ear against his chest so Bilbo could hear his heartbeat and Bilbo went willingly. He was soon slumped in Bofur’s embrace, already shifting to nuzzle hesitantly into his chest, the shirt flannel soft against his nose and across his cheek.

Bofur’s hand came up and began to card through his curls, callouses catching slightly within them. Then fingertips began to rub in soothing circles across his scalp and then Bofur was just holding him close and it was _nice_.

But it wasn’t fair to Bofur, taking up his time like this and keeping him from his friends. Of preventing Bofur from having a better life without him and Bilbo shook his head slightly as he began to pull himself away. “What’s wrong?” Bofur asked, even as Bilbo shook his head, running his hands along Bofur’s flannel covered shoulders and then squeezed Bofur’s lower arms, just below the elbow.

“You staying?” Bilbo asked.

“Unless you don’t want me here, yes,” Bofur answered softly.

Bilbo just bobbed his head slightly, though he wasn’t sure if it was to shake his head ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or even what question he would be bobbing his head in answer to. He shifted his fingers so he was clutching the shirt a little tighter and closed his eyes tightly as he pressed his forehead to Bofur’s sternum. “Bilbo?” Bofur questioned, but Bilbo just shook his head, trying to push back once more.

Bofur let him and leaned down slightly to look him in the eyes. His hair was loose and Bilbo reached up, almost as if to run his fingers through it before he jerked his hands away as if the locks had burned him from the near touch.

It felt that way as shame burned in the back of his throat like bile and he shoved himself away, running away from Bofur despite the other man’s cries for him to come back.

Bilbo just rushed through the doorway of his bedroom and to the bathroom. Without any hesitation, he shut the door and locked it behind him before pressed himself against the door, shaking apart at the seams.

He trembled and shook, ignoring the pleadings to open the door as he scrambled further into the room as he stared at the floor. His pristine white tile floor.

When did he get that? Was it after the first attempt or the third? Or was it put in by Bofur after they met, when Bofur needed reasons to keep Bilbo in sight as often as he could manage?

The door rattled on the hinges and Bilbo scrambled to his feet and stared into a mirror.

Bilbo hesitated, before he with a pained scream, he slammed his fists into the glass. It cracked beneath his fists, small shards stabbing into the soft flesh and he began to sob loudly, his fists pounding into the mirror.

“Go away!” Bilbo shouted, though he wasn’t sure if he was screaming at Bofur, who was starting to sound panicked, or himself, even as the mirror broke apart under his onslaught. His arms trembled and heat trickled down his arms while pinpricks of fiery agony dotted his hands as he collapsed to the floor amidst the shards.

One is longer than the others and jagged, and Bilbo doesn’t hesitate to grab it, though what he’s going to do with it, he’s not sure. But it hurts, everything hurts, and he’s a horrible human being who doesn’t deserve to be here, and…

His arm is burning in agony as the door is splintering apart. Bilbo sobs out apologies to the air and Bofur is crunching through the glass in his boots.

“Go away,” Bilbo sobbed out as Bofur began to carefully soothe him into releasing the glass piece.

It fell and shattered into smaller pieces, scattering across the floor and adding to the destruction that is his bathroom. Bofur is quiet, his voice a soft and gentle rolling sound that Bilbo clings to as he feels Bofur wrapping him up in his arms. “I can’t do that Bilbo,” Bofur whispered softly as he cradled Bilbo close.

“You should. I’m poison and disease and I will ruin everything you hold dear in your life,” Bilbo choked out as he was lifted into the air, his vision swimming.

“You’re not poison, but right now, I need you to stay with me, all right Bilbo? Just…stay with me,” Bofur stated and he was being settled on the ground again.

Everything was hurting and his throat felt raw and he was shaking, even as he felt something being tied around his arm tightly. Bofur’s words were muted mumbles across his ears and his vision was mostly darkness now as he continued to cry, his chest constricting as someone held his face, cradling him in the present as if he was precious.

Then the darkness consumed him.

*~*~*

_“Emergency Services, how may we help you?”_

_“I need an ambulance at Number 3 Bagshot Row in the Shire. My friend is bleeding out from stabbing himself in the arm with a piece of glass.”_


	9. Bridging Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bridging chapter.
> 
> Some minor time-skipping.

"You look like hell," Nori stated as Bofur walked into the office clutching at a travel mug of coffee.

"Thanks," Bofur grumbled as he headed for his section of the art area.

All he wanted to do was to turn in this things, get his new project, and then leave. Maybe work in his home office for a bit before he headed back to the hospital to see if Bilbo was ready to have visitors. "Boyfriend keep you up all night?" Nori asked and Bofur  _slams_ his travel mug onto his table.

With a low snarl, he turns on Nori and ignores how everyone is staring at him. “For the last time, he’s _not_ my boyfriend and I swear to whoever is listening, you _ever_ bring that up around him, I will _not_ be held responsible for whatever I will do to you when I see you next, do you understand?” Bofur demanded.

“Lad, the protesting over it isn’t helping much,” Balin pointed out and Bofur managed, barely, not to throw a glare in Balin’s direction.

“Maybe I’m not protesting on my account, but for his, all right? Maybe, just maybe, I am not thinking about myself in all of this, but over him! Did anyone consider _that_ in their teasing?” Bofur demanded and swallowed slightly before he turned to his table and carefully set his portfolio on the table, thankful he hadn’t damanged anything.

There was an echoing silence to the room and Bofur sighed, his shoulders hunching up to his ears. “Can we just drop it, please?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, Bofur, we can,” Nori answered and Bofur began to pull out the setting description for the next video game.

Before he even began to read, however, he was interrupted by Ori settling next to him. “What happened?” Ori asked quietly.

“Please Ori, just drop it,” Bofur begged quietly and the young writer sighed.

“Fine. But tell Bilbo he’s welcome over any time he wants, okay?” Ori whispered and Bofur nodded, even as he began to pull out some paper to begin preliminary sketches.

Why the fuck did the first setting have to be in a fucking hospital?

*~*~*

“Bofur, want to come to the pub with us?” Nori asked and Bofur shook his head.

“No. Got somewhere I need to be,” Bofur answered before he began to long walk to Rivendell Hospital, as he had for the past week since Bilbo had been transferred there on Dr. CelebríanPeredhel’s orders.

Thank whoever that September was almost over because Bofur wasn’t sure he could take much more of this strain.

*~*~*

The security in Rivendell was as thorough as ever, even as the head of the guards, Glorfindel…something, greeted him cheerfully by name. “Bilbo’s out in the garden today Bofur.” Glorfindel stated, once Bofur was cleared, and Bofur couldn’t stop the smile if he tried.

“Well, that’s a good sign,” Bofur answered and headed down the winding path to the garden.

The walk was lovely and long, framed by trees with the occasional off-shoot into a fountain area with benches. Nurses with patients were settled at the benches, but Bofur mostly ignored them all, walking ever onward until he got to the garden at the end of the walk. Filled with beautiful flowers and towering trees, it almost looked like a fantastical magical forest that held only good things within.

It was also the only place where the path ‘faded’ out into the grass, where Bilbo was sitting, his own nurse hovering close by in case he was needed quickly. Elladan was his name, and he was, apparently, one of Dr. CelebríanPeredhel’s sons. He was also respectful of Bilbo and obviously someone who helped Bofur’s friend often. “May I join you?” Bofur called and Bilbo turned, seeming to almost perk up, smiling weakly.

“Always,” Bilbo answered and turned his attention back to the daisies that were blooming about on the small grassy hill. “Hello Elladan,” Bofur greeted as he settled next to Bilbo, carefully.

“Hello Bofur,” Elladan answered.

Bofur smiled and focused on Bilbo, noting that bandages that were still wrapped around Bilbo’s wrists and the tiny stitches that were decorating his hands, black marks against pale skin. “What do daisies mean again Bilbo?” Bofur asked and soon Bilbo was off and explaining the language of flowers, a true, if tiny, smile decorating his face.


End file.
